


Can We Work it Out?

by VerticalMan



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-17 23:54:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21501868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerticalMan/pseuds/VerticalMan
Summary: As fights become the norm of The Beatles, Ringo becomes the mediator, but the pressure of holding the band together starts to get to him.(They were all together but it's all a little too tense now)
Relationships: George Harrison/John Lennon/Paul McCartney/Ringo Starr, George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Ringo Starr, Paul McCartney/Ringo Starr
Comments: 11
Kudos: 114





	Can We Work it Out?

**Author's Note:**

> So im not usually one for angst, or conflict, so this might be kind of stilted. I just want all the boys to love and appreciate Ringo.

Ringo had honestly been tuned out of the argument for a while now, just sitting behind his drums and letting his mind go blank. George had left as soon as it started. However, it seemed to be getting a little too loud to ignore now.  
"YOU ARE A FUCKING MADMAN MCCARTNEY" John yelled across the room. Ringo was pretty sure the argument started over a small mistake while recording. Sadly, it didn't seem to take any more than that sometimes these days.  
"Well if you put any effort in John, we would be done by now. But you're bloody useless!" Paul seemed to be in better control of himself, but Ringo could tell he was just as mad. He really didn't want to get involved but...  
"I SWEAR I'LL BEAT YOU TO A BLOODY PULP!" There it was, John was throwing things in Paul's direction, and by association, Ringo's as well. Maybe he should have gotten mad, but he was too heartbroken at the state of them all. He stood up, and started trying to walk towards John, taking care to dodge the objects thrown his way.  
"Alright there John, let's-"  
"Ringo don't you dare tell me to calm down! This bastard's got what's coming to him!" Ringo grabbed his arm firmly and stared down John, who looked near feral.  
"John." He did nothing else but look into his eyes until he could see something give, just a little bit. "Come with me lad." He shot a look over his shoulder at Paul that he hoped communicated 'don't say anything and make this worse' before he began leading john into a different room.  
Ringo sat down on a couch that was in this side room, while John paced the floor in front of him, still fuming. Ringo patted the space next to himself.  
"C'mon lad, have a seat with me."  
"Fuck off Ritchie." Was John's only response. Ringo frowned, but didn't say anything. He the goal was calming things down after all. He gave it a minute or so of silent pacing before he tried again. This time he stood up to meet John, and stilled him with a hand on his arm.  
"Listen Johnny, I know things have been a little rough lately-"  
"Yeah, cause Macca's a controlling twat." John snorted. Ringo rubbed john's arm with his thumb to quiet him down.  
"But Paul just wants what's best for us. What's good for the band. He cares about us." That got John to shake off his hand and collapse down on the couch.  
"Thats where you're wrong Ritchie." He said. His voice was more bitter than angry now, and Ringo understood that feeling. They were all more than a little bitter these days. "He only cares about himself. His image, and his music."  
Ringo followed, and put his hand back on John's shoulder. He knew it was important for John to have physical contact, and honestly, it was keeping him grounded as well. He wasn't sure how to respond to that comment. It wasn't like he could say things were like they used to be, because they so clearly weren't. They used to all be madly in love, so wrapped up in their own world, and so happy to be. It used to be that when John got angry, all three of them were there to calm him down and reassure him he wasn't alone. It didn't seem to mean as much when 'not alone' was just Ringo now.  
"If he didn't care, he wouldn't fight. He'd just be gone by now. That's how I know you all still care, at least a little. And... I know I'm not much, but I'll always care about you." He pulled John into a hug, and was glad to feel some of the tension slowly drain away from his shoulders as he hugged back. "I love you, John." He felt a little unsure saying that. It had been a while since love flowed freely between the four of them. But he meant it fully. He still loved all of his bandmates, and he didn't know what he would do without them. He didn't know what he was doing without them now, trying to just stay neutral it what was a war zone.  
"Yeah... I- I love you too Ritch." John mumbled into his shoulder. Ringo pulled back just enough to place a kiss on John's forehead before bringing him back into the hug. He would happily stay here as long as John needed him.  
After a few minutes more, John pulled back, sniffed once, and stood up.  
"Alright, I think im ready to go back in and face the beast." Ringo frowned.  
"Don't you go picking any more fights now." He said, and surprisingly, he got a smile from John.  
"Don't worry your little head Ringo, I'll be on my best behavior."  
"Well alright then, let's get back out there and give this another go, shall we? Hopefully George is back by now."  
Ringo felt accomplished that John seemed to be doing much better than when they came in the room, but a cloud still hung over his thoughts. He couldn't help but feel a little isolated. Sure he wasn't actually on bad terms with any of the rest of them, but it wasn't what it used to be. And without the anger to fill the void, Ringo always felt the empty spot where the love that seemed never ending at the time used to be.

A few days had passed, and there hadn't been any more big fights, which Ringo was counting as a win. They were still working on one of Paul’s songs, doing take after take so they could get it just right. After one of those takes, Paul was going over what he wanted to change for the next one. John seemed mostly just disinterested in what was happening, but when Ringo looked over to George, he saw him stewing. He wanted to do something to help, and well, it was around lunch time...  
“Hey Paul, do you think we could break for lunch? I’m starving.” Ringo spoke up. Paul looked just a little miffed at being interrupted, but thankfully didn’t seem like he was going to argue.  
“Yeah alright, we can keep going after then.” He said, getting a loud, sarcastic groan from John.  
“We’ll be working on this song forever I swear. Now’s my chance to escape.” John said, dramatically draping himself over the couch as he complained. Paul rolled his eyes, and Ringo tried to not let his stomach sink at the thought of one of them ‘escaping’ The Beatles. Sure, he had left before, but he was the least vital. If one of the others left, that would be the end of the band. And Ringo wasn’t prepared for something like that.  
Ringo walked over to where George was fiddling with his guitar, and tried to gauge his mood a little better. It wasn’t uncommon for him to look sullen without meaning to, but Ringo liked to think that by now he could tell his emotions pretty well. And it was not good. Where John was likely to blow up at any small thing that annoyed him, George would stay quiet and resentful most of the time. It resulted in less outright fights, but just as much hate. A few years ago, Ringo might have flicked him playfully to get his attention, but that wouldn’t be taken so kindly anymore, so he just spoke.  
“Hey Georgie, wanna go get lunch with me?” George looked up and gave him a tight, but genuine smile. Ringo breathed a sigh of relief in his head.  
“Sure Ritch, it’ll be nice to get out of here for a few.”  
“Don’t I know it.” He smiled back, and patted George on the back as he stood up.

Once they had sat down in a restaurant and ordered, thankfully being able to get a table away from the rest of the restaurant so no one would bother them, Ringo decided to try getting George to open up. It wasn’t good to hold all that anger in, and it might help to be able to talk about with someone who he was still pretty close with.  
“So, how are you faring with everything that’s going on?” He started.  
“Well, it’s the same bullshit as always, but I’m doing fine.” George frowned a little, but said no more. Apparently it would take a bit more of a direct approach.  
“Love, I saw you sulking today. Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”  
“Look Ringo, I don’t need babying, I can deal with my shit on my own.” George said defensively. Ringo held his hands up in a placating gesture.  
“I know, Geo. I’m just offering to be an ear to listen is all. It’ll do you good to get it out.” George seemed to consider for a moment, before nodding.  
“It’s just that, we’ll spend days on end recording one of Paul or John’s songs, even if they’re not going to be any good either way, but I have to fight to get them to even listen to one of mine. It’s such bullshit!”  
George was right in that the other two weren’t taking his songs as seriously. Ringo had listened to his songs, of course, and they were brilliant. George was just as good a songwriter as Lennon/McCartney, but didn’t get any of the recognition. There wasn’t much he could say in response though. He couldn’t help but think George would do well with a solo career. It might be better for him if The Beatles broke up. Selfishly, he didn’t want to mention that, in case George decided he was right and left.  
“Your songs are amazing, love. They just need to realize that.”  
“They’re never gonna realize that if they never listen. Do you know how many songs I have saved up because I know the two of them would never take it seriously? I could put out two albums all by myself.” Ringo tried not to frown at that. It wouldn’t do to discourage him from making his own music, and he was just venting anyway.  
“What do you say then, that when we go back to the studio, we show them some of your songs? I’ll be there with you to convince them. If they listen to them, they’ll know that they’re good.”  
“I doubt that’ll do any good. Those two have their heads too far up their own asses.”  
“I really don’t think they mean to.” It was hard to defend them sometimes, because Ringo knew that they really weren’t taking George seriously. They were too focused on themselves at times, but they weren’t bad people, and he loved them too. He didn’t want to hear someone talking bad about them. He especially didn’t want to hear George talking bad about them. The four of them should have been the ones defending each other from outside criticism. He just wished, as he often did these days, that things had never changed.  
“Whether they mean to be or not, they’re both gits.”  
“C’mon lad, let’s at least try to get them to listen.” There was a pause as George once again considered his words.  
“Oh alright, we can try.” Ringo smiled at George, and was glad to see that George’s returning smile seemed to come easier than before.  
On the way back to the studio, Ringo thought more about their conversation. About what it meant that George was collecting songs. He tried to imagine what would happen if they did break up, start solo careers. George would do great he was sure. John and Paul would do well for themselves too, though they’d have to get used to writing without each other. He supposed they were getting used to it now; They didn’t write songs together in the way they used to anymore. The whole band was less of a collaboration nowadays.  
So they would be alright, but would Ringo be? He wasn’t exactly known for his songwriting ability. And would anybody even care enough to listen if he wasn’t in The Beatles anymore? Probably not. He could only hope that things would get better, and it wouldn’t be over anytime soon.

Later that night, Ringo got a phone call. Showing the other’s George’s music had gone fairly well, Paul even seemed excited to work on some of them. It wasn’t until they actually started to arrange one of the songs that fights broke out again. Paul offered a change to the song, and George accused him of trying to take over. The argument ended with George saying ‘fuck you’ and walking out of the studio as John laughed at the side. Ringo thought about going after him to talk him through it again, but he thought it might be best to give him a little space first.  
Now, with his phone ringing, he wondered if he should have talked to George. Maybe this was him, calling to complain about what happened. Maybe he would be upset that Ringo didn’t follow do much of anything, after he said he’d support him. When he picked up the phone, though, it wasn’t George.  
“Hey Ritchie.” Paul sounded off, maybe drunk.  
“Paul? Is something wrong?” They rarely talked to each other on the phone. If one of them had something to say to the other, they would always see each other the next day in the studio, after all.  
“They hate me.” Ringo’s heart sank. Paul sniffed, and he knew he had probably been crying before he called. “I’m only trying to help, but they hate me.”  
“No luv, they don’t hate you-”  
“Please, Ringo. You’re there, you know how they treat me.” It broke Ringo’s heart to know Paul was so affected by the others. He wished that they were talking in person so that he could give him a hug.  
“...I know. Things aren’t good these days. I wish that we all still got on well.” Paul was quiet for a little bit, and Ringo wondered if that was the wrong thing to say. He couldn’t think of a way to put a positive spin on this. The Beatles just didn’t seem to be able to get along any more.  
“I remember a time when George would come to me to ask about writing songs, y’know.” Paul finally spoke. “It was nice. To know that he trusted me to help, and to not make fun. He’s a great writer. I just wish he still wanted my input.”  
“He’s a great writer now because you were there to help him learn. Now he just wants to prove that he can do it on his own.” Paul was quiet again for a stretch of time.  
“Am I too controlling?” He asked.  
“...Maybe sometimes you are. I know that you’re just trying to make sure the music is good, but when we fight so much all the time, the music suffers.” Ringo fidgeted in his seat. He felt like he wasn’t doing much to comfort Paul from over the phone. Maybe his own outlook was getting too bleak.  
“I don’t want to fight.” Paul sounded small. “I really don’t Rings. I just don’t know what to do. John and George seem like they’re just checked out half the time, like they’re just waiting for the band to be over so they don’t have to deal with me anymore.”  
“I never wanna stop dealing with you Paul.” Ringo said, thankfully not sounding as choked up as he felt. "I love you. I love all of you. And I don't want us to end."  
"Well at least I have you still, Ritchie." Paul said, and for a second Ringo could imagine a tired but very genuine smile on Paul's face, on the other side of the phone.  
"Of course, you've always got me dear." A few moments passed, Ringo fiddling with the string on his telephone and waiting for Paul to make the next move. Eventually Paul cleared his throat and spoke.  
"Alright, well it was good to talk to you darling, I'll see you in the studio tomorrow." While his voice betrayed none of the emotion of the conversation, the use of 'darling' made Ringo smile.  
"See you tomorrow Paul. We'll work everything out."  
Ringo placed his phone back in the holder, and leaned back in his chair, looking at the ceiling. It was nice to know he wasn't alone in wanting to keep the band together. But even the two of them together wouldn't be able to stop a split if the other two didn't want it as well. He decided to just go to bed for the night, figure it out tomorrow.

Well, it was tomorrow, and Ringo had decidedly not figured it out.  
The day had started out nicely, with Ringo greeting Paul with a hug, and being delighted by Paul's resulting grin. As they got to work, everybody seemed to be putting in an effort to collaborate a little, especially Paul and George, who seemed to have decided to forgive Paul on his own. While Ringo didn't have much to do personally, he was relieved and ready to relax behind his drums for a day. Apparently, John got a little bored with the peace though.  
"Oh great, more granny shit." He piped up from the sidelines where he'd been mostly ignoring Paul and George working out guitar for a new song. Ringo saw Paul wince, the "granny shit' being a bit of a sore spot, and Ringo froze.  
"Well, we're at least working on something over here, John. If you would work with us, the music might sound more like what you want, don't you think?" He spoke over his shoulder, quickly turning his attention back to the music. John bristled.  
"Oh yeah, cause you're so easy to work with. Wouldn't want to mess with the great Paul McCartney's vision."  
"You're not any better, mate." George added in, managing to insult both of them in one go. This was the same argument that had happened so many times, and Ringo was tired. He wasn't ready to mediate again already. The frustration and helplessness was beginning to pile up in his throat.  
"I should just quit the band." John said, tossing his hand like what he said didn't just tear a hole through Ringo. "Then I could finally be free of you lot and make some actually good music."  
Paul or George had responded with something, but Ringo missed it, unable to hold back tears any longer. Fuck.  
"Fuck." He muttered, trying to tilt his face away and wipe at his eyes a little bit. Then he realized no one had been paying attention to him at all until he spoke. Fuck. Frustratingly, this development only made him cry harder. Soon he was near sobbing, and they would have heard him anyway. The others were just staring at him. None of them cried in front of each other, especially not anymore. And especially not Ringo, always keeping it together for them.  
"Ritchie?" George spoke. Ringo shook his head, but he didn't know at what. He wanted to leave the room, but he felt pinned to his drum stool by their gazes.  
Surprisingly, it was John who moved first, walking to Ringo's side with a frown on his face. He thought it might be guilt. John put a hand on his shoulder, and Ringo immediately wrapped his arms around John's waist and buried his head in his stomach. He was already acting soft, he might as well at this point. The tears just wouldn't stop, and he felt like he couldn't catch his breath.  
John, thankfully, didn't push him off, but instead started petting his head lightly while Ringo gasped. He felt other other hands on him after a while, the other two Beatles.  
For a minute, it felt like it used to, being surrounded by the three people he loves most in all the world, feeling affection from them all at once. He would have stayed in that fantasy all day if he could have. But it was hard when the mood was so low. He didn't often sob uncontrollably in the good old days.  
"Fuck- I'm sorry." He spoke into John's middle. He pulled back, and instead laid his head on George's shoulder, who was kneeling next to him. He left his arms loosely around John's waist though, like if he held on, John couldn't leave them all.  
"Don't be sorry luv, what's wrong?" Paul asked. All six of their hands on him steadied him, rubbing circles and holding him in place enough to calm down a little.  
"I don't want it to end. I don't want you all to leave." Just getting that out made his tears pick back up a little. He had said as much to Paul last night, but with him here, crying in the middle of all of them like a bloody child, it felt whiny. There was no reason for the rest of them to want to stay after all.  
"We're not breaking up Ringo, we're still here, just fighting." George reassured. Ringo nodded his head weakly against George's shoulder, but didn't have the energy to really respond.  
John leaned down, pressing his lips against the top of Ringo's head. He whispered for the other two not to hear him.  
"I'm so sorry Rings, I'm not really leaving, I didn't mean it." He sounded emotional, and as Ringo felt his hands tighten their grip, he remembered that John was no stranger to being scared of abandonment. He gave an answering squeeze to his waist.  
"We'll be okay Ringo. Like you said, we'll work everything out." Paul said, reaching up to wipe away the tears that had mostly stopped by now. Ringo closed his eyes.  
"I love you." Ringo said softly, directed at all of them. All of the hands on him reacted, and Ringo realized how long it had been since an I love you had been directed to the group as a whole. It felt longer than it had been.  
"... I love you too." Paul said. "I love all of you, I really do."  
"I love you too lads." George responded. Ringo could feel John hesitate before he spoke as well.  
"Yeah. I... Love you three too." Ringo opened his eyes to see the other three looking between each other, almost shy looking smiles on their faces. When Ringo picked his head up though, they refocused their attention on him.  
"The band might end someday. I just don't want to lose you three if it does." He said, letting his arms fall from John's waist.  
"You'll always have us Ritchie." George said, leaning in to kiss his cheek. Ringo looked at him, surprised, and George gave a smile back.  
"Yeah, we can't just go abandoning the best of us." John ruffled his hair as he spoke. Everyone was starting to pull back a little, but no one seemed quite ready to separate. Ringo caught eyes with Paul, and saw him wince as he shifted, also on his knees to have better access to Ringo. Ringo reached out and grabbed his hand.  
"Why don't we all move to the couch for now?" He suggested. The others quickly agreed, and they made their way over to the couch, still completely clinging to each other, and with Paul partially supporting him with how drained he felt.  
As they laid on the couch together, everyone all tangled up with each other, it finally felt like it used to, for real. They talked, not about the music they should have been writing, or their personal disagreements, but about their memories. Memories from back in the 'good old days', when they had a lot less, but they had each other, always.  
Ringo wasn't sure if the peace would last, or for how long. But for now, all he wanted to do was listen to his three boys, and soak up all the love he could.


End file.
